Stories of Arda - Lord of the Rings Fan-Fiction Archive

Be careful what you wish for, it is said. As a child I used to dream that the shadow would depart, the king would return and the White Tree would bloom again. I had not, however, given thoughts to where I would be or what I would be doing when the king returns.

And so, one day I found myself the Steward of the realm, the latest of a long line of faithful rulers who took oath to rule until the king returns, holding in my hands a letter from someone who claimed to be the returning king.

I hailed him my lord and king on that fateful night at the Houses of Healing. There were witnesses, worthy ones, though all understood that my exclamation was not to be taken as the formal reply of the Steward. I remembered clearly what I had said, thought and felt at that moment. The joy, the surge of love and trust; I did not deny or regret any of that.

But (why is there always a but in anything glorious and wonderful?) I was a free man then. I was Faramir, a Captain of Gondor, who had done his outmost to protect his city, who had endured darkness and walking deaths, who found a king of the West calling to him at the end of the perilous road. I followed him and found my city standing; she had withstood the siege of Mordor. If it is considered a weakness that I jumped for joy, so be it.

Shortly afterwards, I found that the duty that had so long burdened my father had finally crushed him, and that duty was then mine to bear and fulfil. That Captain of Gondor who was overjoyed to find his king, he could go on following him and offer him his fealty. Even that Steward’s son who was so fond of songs and tales, he could have debated endlessly with his father (as was their wont) over the heir of Elendil’s claim and accused his father of pride and clinging to authority. But the Steward? Could he, was he allowed to, air his fancy, his dream? For the Steward, only the good of Gondor can prevail, shall prevail.

I had no question on what my reply would be. For my part I acknowledged Lord Aragorn as king, and I would welcome him as a king’s servant should. But I had other questions, as I was the Steward, though only for a short while, and it was my duty to preserve Gondor’s interest.

I accepted that Aragorn son of Arathorn is Elendil’s heir, but beyond that what did I know of him? Yes, there were his healing hands, there were Eagles who pronounced his triumphant entry to the city, but will the king prove an able ruler, will he be benevolent to my city, to my people?

The steward is the king’s servant, but it does not mean I would welcome just anyone with Elendil’s blood on his veins to do whatever he wishes to my land and my people. Why do I keep thinking of the people as my people? Do I have the right? What does the king know of the hopes and fears of the folk at Lossarnach, at Lamedon? Who is he, where has he lived? What plans has he for Gondor? Do you see that I, too, began to think of Gondor as my charge, after only few days of being the Steward?

And I was my father’s son. How could I receive with joy someone, something, that he rejected so utterly till the end? It is long now since you turned from your own way at my counsel...

Now that the white rod was mine to hold, I began to understand my father a little better. He must have started his office like I did, thinking only of the good of Gondor. If I let my mind continue with all the questions, would I too become like him, thinking in arrogance that only I know what is best for Gondor?

Such an important claim should be presented in person to the Council of Gondor. I would not enter the city unbidden. Would a meeting at Osgiliath be agreeable, or would the Lord Steward prefer to meet at the Pelennor?

It was thoughtful of him to ask my preference (did he perhaps think Osgiliath bear too painful a memory for me?), but I would not ask him, weary from the battles of the Pelennor and the Black Gate, to ride so far to Pelennor only to meet me.

As for Osgiliath, well, dark memory came to me from time to time, not only at Osgiliath. And it would not be the first time I rode there after the battle. I had gone there to see the clearing, for many were busy at works there. We had repaired the boat-bridges which were damaged in the battle; some ferries were stationed there to allow people to travel and goods to be sent to Cair Andros; a guarded post with fresh horses we also kept there for coming and going between Minas Tirith and Cormallen.

The next day, I rode early in the morning with Húrin the Warden of the Keys and some guards. Aragorn rode from Cormallen with two of the lords of Gondor who marched to Morannon for the last battle: Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth and Angbor, Lord of Lamedon.

Many of the Council of Gondor were absent; Gondor had the victory but it was dearly bought. Forlong Lord of Lossarnach fell in the battle of Pelennor, as was Hirluin Lord of Pinnath Gelin. Haldad Lord of Lebennin fell in Morannon. Halmir, his right-hand man, whom I appointed as the next Lord of Lebennin, was wounded. He was then still under the healers’ care in Cormallen, and so was Lord Dervorin of Ringlo Vale. Lord Duinhir of Morthond remained at Cormallen, deep in mourning. He sent words to me, asking to be excused from any council. Both his sons perished in the Battle of the Pelennor.

“I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn, the heir of Isildur, his descendant through an unbroken line of father to son; and the heir of Anárion through the line of Fíriel daughter of Ondoher. Long have I desired to return to Gondor. Now is the time, and I am come as the king.”

I answered him, for the Steward was the head of the Council of Gondor. “Should the Council of Gondor accept your claim, Lord Aragorn, you will be the King of both Gondor and Arnor. Should this come into fulfilment, will you give us your words that you will not neglect the needs of Gondor? I do not accuse you of lacking in your regard of Gondor, how can I, after you delivered her from the siege? Yet it is only natural for every man to hold his land of birth the most important.

“I do not presume to know much about Arnor, but I know that much rebuilding is needed there, much more than what Gondor needs. But the greater need of Arnor does not diminish the importance of rebuilding in Gondor. For many long years we have dwindled and spent all our efforts to defend what remains. Now that the shadow has departed, should we not turn our thoughts to cleansing and rebuilding? Too early, perhaps, to think of the scouring of Minas Ithil, but surely we can now turn our long-held dream of rebuilding Osgiliath into a certain plan? My heart rejoices when I think that this ruin may one day be restored to its former glory, tall and beautiful with its dome reaching to the stars. We also need to make plans about Umbar. Now that the Enemy is no longer there to support the Corsairs, Gondor shall rightfully regain it; are we not the descendants of the Sea-lords? And what of fair Ithilien, the garden of Gondor, now so desolate? Surely we can begin the cleansing and planting there?”

His face brightened when I mentioned Osgiliath. “The thought of Osgiliath restored to its former glory makes you rejoice,” he said. “I, too, long for it. My forefathers built Osgiliath; is it a wonder that I long to see it restored? You said that one holds the land of one’s birth the most important: that is true. But I have not spent all my years in Arnor. I was raised in Imladris, the Elven realm of the North. It was only after I came of age that I spent some time in the company of the Dúnedain of the North. Then I travelled far and wide to many lands, spent long years serving many lords, including the Lord of Gondor. I give you my words that I hold Gondor as dear as Arnor, for both are the realms of Elendil, and I have spent many years in each realm, long enough to endear both to me.”

For a moment no one spoke. It was Angbor who broke the silence. “You served Gondor in the disguise of Captain Thorongil,” he said. “I only met you once and I was very young then, but I have not forgotten.”

Aragorn nodded. “I took the name of Thorongil when I served Thengel King and Steward Ecthelion. It is an honour to be remembered by a valiant man, Lord Angbor.”

He had, but I had other questions. “Captain Thorongil did many great deeds and his praise is still sung in Gondor. But he left suddenly, at a time when Gondor needed him. Would you enlighten us your reasons for doing so?”

“It was not yet the time for me to claim the kingship. I left to travel to many lands, for I had much to learn,” said Aragorn. “And before I left Gondor, some people had begun to give me respect and love more than befitting a Captain. Some might have remembered the line of Arnor and suspected my lineage. The time was not ripe and I was loath to see Gondor torn by kin strife for the second time.”

“I remember that time,” said Angbor. “In Lamedon I heard the same whispers. My father had the highest regard for Thorongil, but he was relieved when he left. He said that with the shadow at hand, kin strife was the last thing Gondor needed. It was noble of you to leave, lord.”

"First, to preserve the Council of Gondor with their role and duties as stated in the Law. The king may appoint council members; yet we entreat you to keep your appointment among the lords of Gondor."

He nodded again. "I have no intention of being a despot. And my kinsmen will return to the North. Gondor's affairs will be decided by Gondor; you need not worry."

"Second, about the treasury." I was reluctant to say this, but it was better to be thought a mercenary man, than failed to safeguard Gondor's prosperity. "I have searched in the Archives, yet I could not find a detailed account of how the treasuries of Gondor and Arnor stand in relation to each other. From what I could find, it seems each has a separate treasury. In your reunited kingdom, we would like to keep it that way. We will, of course, maintain a close relation with Arnor as befitting our kinship and come to each other's succour in times of need." But Gondor's coffers shall not be depleted for the rebuilding of Arnor. I could not bring myself to say that.

"I have no intention to empty Gondor's treasury to rebuild Annúminas, my good lords," he said. "The Ruling Stewards seek the Council of Gondor’s approval on their spending plan; I will do the same. Any other conditions?”

Prince Imrahil spoke, "Lord Faramir would never say this, so it falls on me to do it. Not a condition, but an entreaty. The Stewards have ruled and guarded Gondor faithfully and ably for almost a thousand years. There shall not be two rulers, of course. But relying on the wisdom of the king, I trust you would treat Lord Faramir and his house with respect befitting their lineage and faithful service."

He seemed slightly taken aback and some sadness passed over his countenance. But he replied evenly, “I have no wish to oppose the Council of Gondor. Should that happen, I will devote myself to the rebuilding of Arnor. I would like to maintain our tie of kinship, just as Arvedui and Eärnil did.”

Nobody spoke for a while and I, too, had no more to say in front of everyone. “The Council of Gondor will give our answer in due time,” I said. Aragorn and I rose and we all went out of the tent.

As I went out of the tent, to my surprise I saw Mithrandir outside, sitting on the grass near the river. “I did not know you came, Mithrandir,” I said as I sat next to him, “why did you not join us?”

Then I asked him to tell me about the Lord Aragorn. “Who is he, where has he spent his life before, why did he come only now? He did mention Thorongil, but I would like to hear more.”

And so I listened to the eventful life story which seems fitting to heroes and legends. The untimely death of his father, the fostering at Rivendell, the disguise as the sell-sword Thorongil, the wanderings to uncharted places, the death of his mother. He too has lost all his family, I thought, and is not a stranger to hardship and loss.

“Did you know that it was the Eagles that bring the tidings of victory to the city?” I asked him after he finished his story. “They sang about the return of our king. It was as if the Valar themselves made the claim for the heir of Isildur and warned any stiff-necked lords of Gondor who would dare to deny him entry.”

Here I stumbled for words. Someone worthy? Someone destined to be king? Someone who can restore Gondor to its glory? Who am I to judge whether someone is worthy to be king? And yet that is what I am called to do. “Someone that will be true to Gondor”, I finally said.

“One can never be certain of such things, Faramir. Today I say to you, and I think you yourself know this, that the line of Elendil has returned to you. Aragorn is a great man, capable to be a good ruler and restorer of glory. But what will become of Gondor in years to come, under his rule, or under your rule, who can be certain of that? Elendil the Tall was a great lord, but he perished in a battle. Eärnur was mighty in battles, but in his rashness, he left his kingdom bereft. Aragorn is a great man, but who can say what his descendants would be like? The same question applies to the Steward and any other rulers. You, Faramir, are devoted to Gondor. Who can be certain that your son, or grandson, will be as devoted? Shall we say, then, that we will choose a worthy ruler every time the previous ruler departed?”

“The stewardship was not hereditary in the beginning”, I pointed out. “In the old days every king chose their own steward. But it is unthinkable to do that with kings, and who are to be burdened with the choosing? The Council? Or shall we, by some clever means, gather the opinion of everyone in the land? Even if we can, that will present its own difficulties. Lords will vie for power; the crown will become a prize and no longer a duty.”

“Yes,” he said, “it is unthinkable for us now. Let that be the course taken by others in distant days, if the needs for that ever come. As for you, my Lord Steward, do not wish to master all the tides, or to make Gondor future all certain. It is enough for each of us to do our part, in the years wherein we are set, preparing a good earth for those who live after to till. If what may seem good earth to you today proves to be otherwise for your descendants, fret not. No one is ever asked to be all-knowing.”

My thoughts went to my father. “Do you remember, Mithrandir, how Father said that it was long since I turned from my own way at his counsel? I realized now that he was right. Even now, I am welcoming someone that he rejected utterly till his end. Boromir would not have disappointed him so.”

As I sat outside my tent that night, gazing at the starlit river, my thoughts went not so much to the last battle at Osgiliath, as to the night when I saw Boromir’s funeral boat passing me by. I missed my brother.

Is it not a sign of greatness, that one should ask, where he may command? You may ask anything of me, my lord, I wished to say, and I would have said it had I not been the Steward. Instead, I simply said yes.

I smiled. “But I am not most people,” I said. “I see it for what it is: a steward surrendering his charge and continue to serve his king. It is a reason for pride and joy, not resentment. But what would the king need a steward for?”

“You are the lore master, and you asked me this? The kings of old have their stewards, the Law wrote down the duties of the Steward: chief councillor to the King, the King’s representative during his absence or sickness, when the King goes to war the Steward must remain in the City as the army commander … though in your case, I would like to have you by my side in battles. Perhaps we can do something about this rule.”

It would be remiss of me not to point out to him, thus I said, “I am sure you know that the stewardship was not hereditary to begin with. The King is free to choose his Steward from any lords of Gondor.”

“If I am to get rid of the House of Húrin, since they have dared to usurp the ruling authority for hundreds of years, who would you recommend as my steward? You know the lords of Gondor better than I do.”

“Ah. Let me think. My cousins the lords of Dol Amroth are all valiant and true. Elphir is out of the question, since he will be the next Prince. Erchirion is a great captain but has little patience for mundane matters which unfortunately a Steward would have to bear with. Amrothos is more interested in numbers and books than in people. And they both know little of Gondor other than Minas Tirith, Belfalas and Pelargir. The lords of other fiefs, their care is mostly on their own land, they may not have the required understanding of Gondor as a whole. And there are some who certainly should not be the Steward! I should not mention their names to you at this stage.”

“Yes, arrogant enough without a new rank to increase their pride. There are other valiant men of high Númenorean descent in Minas Tirith, with some tutelage they could learn about the fiefs …” I suddenly realized that Aragorn was trying to suppress his mirth.

“You are having your amusement at my expense,” I said, as I realized what he was doing. “Very well, at the risk of being a fool who sings his own praise, I admit: if we talk about trainings and qualities, I seem to be most suitable to serve the king as his steward.”

I had my answer ready, for I had thought that the King would have no need of a steward, and have planned my course accordingly. “I will continue to serve you as a Captain of Gondor. If you release me from that duty, too, I will rebuild my ancestors’ house at Ithilien and dwell there with my books. Or perhaps at the orchards at Lossarnach.”

“That sounds enjoyable,” he said. Then he grew serious again. “But what a loss for Gondor! I am not a fool; I would not lose you. And the people would never forgive me if they think I treat you less than you deserve.”

For some time, none of us spoke. We both looked at the stars above. My thoughts again went to Boromir. What did he talk about with Aragorn during their journey together? What did he think about Aragorn?

“Because ability and right are two different matters,” I said. “Everyone has their own duty. One may be able to do another’s duty, but that does not mean he should start usurping another’s place and authority. I believe I can rule Gondor well. But I can never make the White Tree blossoms or make my hands the hands of a healer. I will not deny Gondor her king.”

Aragorn looked at me intently, and I saw a wistful expression in his face. He did not say anything, but I could sense that he allowed me, invited me even, to read his heart. And as I looked back at him I read many things: that he saw the kingship as his duty, that it saddened him that his return had caused so much distress to such a staunch steward as my father, that he earnestly wished he could have come sooner during the siege, and finally, that the past was gone, but at least the present and the future are salvaged, and would I build that future together with him?

Who could have said nay? I had resolved to be guided by my duty and reason, not by my feelings or fancies. I wished to accept him as my king because it was the right thing for Gondor and my duty to do so, not because I loved him. But how sorely tempted I was, to kneel then and there and pledge myself to him!

*The verse was the one sung by Aragorn when the glimpse of the White Mountains made him reveal his deep affection for Gondor (The Two Towers, Book Three, Chapter Two: The Riders of Rohan).

“Here begins the council of the Lord Faramir son of Denethor, the twenty-seventh Ruling Steward of Gondor,” the scribe announced. “The first matter to be discussed is the war and our defence.”

“The victory was dearly bought and we will not forget the fallen. After the Host of the West return, we will gather at the Great Hall to remember those who have fallen: soldiers, lieutenants, captains, Lords Forlong, Hirluin, Duilin and Derufin, Haldad, and the late Lord Steward Denethor.”

There was an uncomfortable silence as I mentioned my father. I continued, “We all know the late Steward did not die well, but he devoted all his life for Gondor and that is what we will honour and remember.”

We then discussed the matter of weregild. We agreed to pay a princely weregild to Rohan, and also a weregild to the Dunedain of the North (not exactly a princely sum, but still noble).

There was not much debate on this matter. The Prince of Dol Amroth declared that he had considered Aragorn his liege lord after the Battle of the Pelennor. He added, “Yet I am ever behind you and for you, my Lord Steward. If you choose to reject this claim, Dol Amroth will stand with you.”

The lords of Lamedon, Lebennin, and Anfalas could not be more enthusiastic to welcome the king. The king who even the Dead obeyed, who has liberated them from the corsairs, who had healed many of their men, who would not want to follow him? They were rather wary of what changes the king would bring, but all in all they were happy to welcome him.

Old Angborn made sure I know it was not because he thought less of me, bless his kind heart. “I have full confidence in your ability to rule Gondor, Faramir, but we would do well to welcome the King who has clearly returned,” he said.

The new lord of Lossarnach was concerned about having a stranger from the North to rule over Gondor (over Gondor’s wealth, to be precise). When we mentioned the condition we put forth concerning the separate treasury of Gondor and Arnor, he was rather mollified. “As long as our wealth stay within our land,” he said. Lossarnach was a rich region.

“Lord Aragorn understands that,” Prince Imrahil said. “And our Lord Treasurer has ever guarded our coffers wisely.” Like a dragon hoarding his gold, Father used to grumble.

Some were reluctant to accept Lord Aragorn, or indeed any king. We did not lose so many of our kins in battles, only to hand over the kingdom to a stranger from the North, they said. We had done well enough without a king for so long, why should we change that?

Hirgalad of Pinnath Gellin said that we should repeat the answer of Pelendur to Arvedui, because, “as your father often said, Lord Faramir, the crown of Gondor belongs to the House of Anarion.”

When Prince Imrahil reminded him that Aragorn is both the heir of Isildur and of Anarion, Hirgalad countered that the female line was not recognised by the Law of Gondor. He did not fail to mention that my father would never have accepted Isildur’s heir’s claim.

I nodded and said, “You are right, Lord Hirgalad. My father the late steward would not have accepted this claim. But I will accept it, and we have heard that most of my Council members agree with this.”

“You will defy your father’s wish, then. I could not say you are obliged to obey his wish, after what he did to you in the last Council, but do not make your decision simply to defy his wish.”

I realized that the council chamber had become completely silent. Hirgalad seemed to regret his words and were going to speak again, but I raised my hand to stay him.

“I am the Steward of Gondor, Lord Hirgalad. I make decision based on what is best for Gondor, as far as I can see it. I did consider the late Steward’s wishes, for he was a wise ruler, but they need not dictate my decision.”

“As to what he did in the last Council, if by that you meant his decision to send some of our forces to defend Osgiliath, that was what he, the Steward, thought best for Gondor’s defence. Let us all respect that decision. The decision was not without merit, it was in keeping with Gondor’s overall defence strategy.

“But you said what he did to me, so I think you referred to the bitter words that I and my father exchanged. About that, I believe I am entitled, as every man of Gondor is, to keep that private matter to myself and not to speak more of it here.”

At a nod from me, he said, “Forgive me, my lords, it is not my place to speak, I am here only to record the council, but...,” he turned to me, “but, what will happen to you, my lord, if the King returns?”

“If this heir of Elendil is as wise as you painted him, he should have done that without we suggesting it. If he turns out to be not that wise, well, is not that what we are here for?” That was Lord Meneldil.

Lest I should become too proud, the next one to speak was Lord Hador of Anorien. “Or perhaps, the Lord Steward has reached an understanding with the Lord Aragorn? Otherwise, how would one so calmly surrender his position?” This insinuation was rude, but not entirely unreasonable.

I looked at him until he looked away. “Lord Aragorn and I understand each other well enough,” I said dryly. “But it seems that the word you had in mind was not understanding, but negotiation, Lord Hador? I did not negotiate with the Lord Aragorn, and never will.”

After we counted the votes, I stood up and announced, “The Council of Gondor will accept the claim of Aragorn son of Arathorn, heir of Elendil, to the crown of Gondor.”

Thus my childhood dream came true: the shadow departed and the king returned. I had lived to see it. I felt a great joy, like a child who was finally given something he has long desired. Yet, at the same time, I wondered whether I had done ill.

I did what I could, in the short time that I was given, to get to know the King, and I liked what I found. I presented his claim fairly to the Council of Gondor and we had accepted it. I accepted him as my King; did I do it for the right reason? Ever your desire is to appear lordly and generous as a king of old, gracious, gentle… Have I squandered my charge for my feelings and fancies, for my desire to appear lordly and generous?

After the messenger left with the letter to be sent to the King, I went out of my study and walked to the adjoining chamber. It was in this chamber, I had been told, that my father spent long agonizing hours at my side, waiting for a word which never came. Waiting for a word, from me.

I had no doubt that I made the right decisions concerning the Ring and the King. But I knew my father’s wishes on these matters were different from mine; I could imagine why in his circumstances he had such wishes, and it pained me that I could not obey his wishes.

Thank you for your most generous words. I keep them in my heart, in that private arsenal I draw strength from when the dark shadow comes to disturb my mind. To know that one is loved is a sure weapon against despair.

What an interesting account you wrote about how the Enemy departed! The tales of the Third Age will not seem out of place even if you put them together with the tales of the Silmarils.

Your father told me you and Amrothos are fully healed, I am glad to hear that. I, too, have been discharged from the Houses of Healing and have taken up my duty.

How are you these days, cousin? What do you feel in these days without the Shadow? It feels ungrateful to be anything but deliriously happy, considering our turn of fate, yet perhaps people who had long endured the shadow of darkness need some time to adjust to bright sunshine.

I found myself easily moved these days. Well, more easily than usual, I know you think I am too easily moved even in normal days. Yesterday I read Falastur’s Poems on Beleriand, and I felt sad as I read the lines, “why did he bear neither sceptre nor crown?” That was not even one of my favourite poems. And the other day I read “mightier in defeat was he / than all kings else in victory” and suddenly I wept.

I do not feel so light-hearted all the time, of course. Lord Aragorn has formally made his claim; I and some Council members met with him three days ago among the ruins of Osgiliath. This matter weighs my heart and mind. My concerns are not what reply I would give—if it were up to me, I would have given him my fealty before he left for Mordor—but what my reasons are to accept the claim.

Doing the right deed for the wrong reason is almost as bad as doing the wrong deed, and perhaps more perilous. Am I eager to accept him because he is Elendil’s heir and Gondor deserves to have a king? Or because I let my fancy, my dream of seeing the White Tree in bloom, prevail over my duty and judgement? Or worse still, because I wish to be seen as a generous, high-hearted Steward who willingly stepped aside to make way for the King?

Nobody would ask me this question, but I have to satisfy myself. And to be honest, I wish to satisfy the people, both those living and those to come, and I do care what the Annals of the Stewards will record of the last Steward’s reply and conduct on the coming of the King to Gondor. So much for being indifferent to glory!

Today morning the lords and Captains swore their fealty to me, and afterwards, I had my first council as the Steward. I must admit I enjoyed directing the course of the council as I think best, observing how each person behaved and reacted ...

There was not much debate about the claim and I was not surprised. Hands of a healer, victory in battles, commands over even the Dead, direct lineage from both Isildur and Anarion, what more could a people asked from their ruler? Well, most would say being benevolent, wise, and an able administrator.

Benevolent and wise, these are satisfied, from what I have perceived in my meetings with him. As for an able administrator, we shall see. But on this matter, he will have the Council and a myriad of aides.

Lord Aragorn treats me with respect and kindness. He seems to think highly of me, though what observations could he have to form that opinion? Perhaps some in the Host have spoken to him about me. For my part, I offer him my love and allegiance, though for now I do restrain myself, lest anyone should think I am securing my position in his court.

Fortunately, I have more practical matters to occupy me: clearing the Pelennor, Cair Andros, Osgiliath from the wreckage of battles, repairing the Rammas, going through the scouts’ report and deciding whether it is safe for the people to return to the City, surveying the destroyed farmlands and deciding whether to relax the food ration (not yet, in case you are wondering), arranging pension for the widows and families of the men who fell in battles, poring over the accounts of past crowning ceremonies with the scribes, going through the balance books with Lord Meneldil, the list goes on.

Despite all these matters which keep me busy, I feel lonely. I am learning to be content, after all, who did not lose a loved one in this war? And everyone has been very kind to me.

Yet I do miss Boromir. Sometimes I feel it acutely, like that day when I found out that a certain old lord has indeed been avoiding me for the simple reason that he did not wish to bow to me. When I found out about this, I thought, wait till I tell Boromir! Boromir would have urged me to deliberately walk by this lord’s house many times a day. Except that if Boromir were here, the proud lord would not have had to bow to me, of course.

Sometimes I even miss Father, despite everything. And I am grieving: grief at our last parting, at how things turned out and at his sad departure. But that is a subject for another letter, or perhaps when we sit together under a tree or by a fireplace. I am not ready to talk about Father.

Among the details in the chronicles and annals of Númenor and Gondor which have become my daily readings recently (not that I am complaining), there was a mention of an interesting chess move which apparently was recognised in Númenor, but somehow was not passed down to our days.

It is a move of “bringing the king to safety”, which consists of moving the king and a rook at the same time. The king could move two squares toward a rook, and the rook would move to the square that the king passed over, and stood guard there.

Have you ever heard of something like this? Moving two pieces at the same time seems quite irregular to me, though I like the idea of having a special move to protect the king. I leave it to you and Amrothos to debate this; I am sending you a chess board with this letter.

I shook my head several times as I read your letter. Some healers at Dol Amroth are interested to learn about the mind instead of the body. Studying you would be most instructive for them.

Knowing how your intricate mind works, I can imagine your distress: if you choose to reject Lord Aragorn’s claim, you will hold yourself guilty of clinging to power and authority, though I notice you did not accuse Pelendur of such guilt.

Yet if you choose to accept the claim, you will hold yourself guilty of giving up so easily the charge which your forefathers jealously guarded. And since from all accounts I heard Lord Aragorn values you highly, you add to your list of crimes the guilt of letting the fact that the king treats you nicely cloud your judgment.

If you remain as the King’s Steward, you will hold yourself accountable for serving someone that your father opposed, just because this someone treats you nicely.

Would you feel better if Lord Aragorn treats you with suspicion or contempt? That would mean having a king who is not a good judge of character, certainly not good for Gondor!

At this juncture, my dear foolish cousin, the only path which can make you happy (no, perhaps not happy, but at least feel not so guilty) is this: to be stripped from all your ranks and lands, to live a life of hardship in an abandoned land where you can see from afar Minas Tirith in her glory.

You said you feel strange these days, as you have not experienced before. May I point out to you that that strange feeling has a name? Its name is happiness. Well, perhaps happiness with a hint of grief at the background, just like the excellent bittersweet wine you sent us. And may I suggest you enjoy the feeling? Let others treat you as you deserve, dear Faramir.

As for your grief, I grieve with you, although I do not presume to know what you feel. Take as long as you need to grieve. And I pray you, do not speak again of learning to be content in your loneliness, it breaks my heart.

I cannot wait to return to Minas Tirith, so I can tell you how foolish yet honourable and wonderful you are. Do not do anything foolish, or foolishly honourable, in the meantime.

PS. Thank you for the chess board. Amrothos and I accept it as an amend for the absence of wine in your parcel. The irregular chess move you described seems a natural progression from the king’s leap, do you not think so? Some conditions must be met to allow this move. We can figure them out in our next game.

I do not need to say much about what happened next, for much had been written elsewhere about the crowning of the King. I surrendered the rod to Aragorn; he gave me not only the rod back, but also friendship, respect and love more than one could deserve, and a princedom added for good measure.

Do you know what I felt when the King showed me the sapling of the White Tree? I felt as someone who finally can release his breath, and only at that moment realized that he had held his breath for some time. I had a peaceful sleep that night; perhaps the last time I slept like that was when I was a child.

In the following days, did I ever have any worries? Yes, of course. But regrets I have none. And after some years, I laid my worries to rest. For the White Tree blossomed, Gondor prospered and Ithilien restored, and I saw them not from afar. They are within my reach and my care still, beautiful and glorious. This time, there is no but.

In our present Age, the lines “more might in defeat was he / than all men else in victory” are part of The Ballad of the White Horse, written by G.K. Chesterton. I imagined that a poet in the First or Second Age might have written similar lines about the death of Fingolfin, the High King of the Noldor.

The line “why did he bear neither sceptre nor crown?” came in our present Age in a Christmas hymn composed by John Rutter. I imagined that a poet in the First or Second Age might have written a similar line about the death of Finrod Felagund, a king who gave up his crown for mere mortals.

Of claim and councils by Itarille